Consumed by Fear
by Vive Aeternaliter
Summary: Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Harry is forced to hide his true identity from the world. But when he attends Hogwarts, his secret is no longer safe. Will the truth come out ?
1. Chapter 1

**Consumed by Fear**

**Rating: **T**  
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**Warnings: **Abuse, Occasional use of bad language.**  
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**Summary: **Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Harry is forced to hide his true identity from the world. But when he attends Hogwarts, his secret is no longer safe. Will the truth come out ?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**A/N:**_ 1/04/2013:_ I've rewritten all seven chapters, seeing as when I read them a couple of days ago, I noticed that they were full of spelling mistakes and grammatical problems. I've also modified the title of the story to : Consumed by Fear, as the last title just didn't make any sense at all.

I would be really glad if you could leave a couple of reviews. No login is required. Reviews help me carry on with the story. If you have any suggestions for the story, or any criticism, or anything at all, don't hesitate to tell me :).

Oh, yeah and one last thing: **Happy Reading :D !**

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><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 1 ¤:<strong>

**The Worst Sort Of Muggles**

It was early in the morning when half the street got woken up by a woman's scream. She had just opened the front door to put out the empty milk bottles, when she saw a small child wrapped up in a bundle of blankets on her doorstep, sleeping.

Ten seconds later, her husband appeared by her side. He was a large man, seriously overweight, with hardly any neck but with a large mustache. It was surprising that he could move that fast. The woman, on the other hand was tall, thin with blond hair and had a really long neck.

The man looked at his wife, visibly concerned, but she didn't seem to take any notice of him. The man followed her gaze and saw the baby on their doorstep. He hesitantly went to pick it up when the woman suddenly screeched, making him jump.

"Don't touch it ! I'm sure it's one of _their_ lot ! "

The man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He thought about asking his wife what she meant, but decided not to after catching his wife's look. He thought for a moment that she was going to pass out.

He stared at the baby wearily and noticed that there was an envelope by its side. He knelt down and took it. He opened the seal of the envelope and took the letter out. He then proceeded to read it. As he read the contents of the letter, his face was gradually changing color. By the end, he had turned an ugly shade of red, bordering on purple. The man angrily crumpled up the letter, then trusted it to his wife to read.

The woman gazed up at her husband before she took the letter. She recognized the writing immediately as there was only one person she knew who possessed this penmanship. She had gotten halfway through the letter when the man bellowed:

"There is NO bloody way that this _thing_ is coming to live with us !"

"Not so loud, Vernon," whispered the woman. "My freak of a sister just had to get blown up, didn't she?" she spat. The news that her sister had died didn't seem to affect her the slightest bit. "Because of that, WE get stuck with the boy!"

"Stuck with this?!" yelled the man. "I think not! I refuse to have the boy here, I will not tolerate it Petunia!"

"But what if they come and hurt our Dudders?" said Petunia, fear evident in her voice.

"Let them come and try! I'll blast their bloody heads off if they try anything!" shouted Vernon as he balled his hand into a fist. "I will not have him ruining our lives or Dudley's childhood."

"As much as I hate to say this Vernon, they're powerful. I don't think we stand much chance against them. We don't have a choice..."

"I refuse to live this way Petunia!" he announced, though sounding a lot less sure of himself. "We can always move, I doubt that they would be able to find us try to find us on the other side of the globe."

"But Dumbledore said that we would be in danger without those blood-ward things... I don't fancy getting murdered anytime soon."

Vernon made a growling noise from the back of his throat. Petunia resisted the urge to take a step back. She had never seen Vernon get angry like this, and it was quite unsettling.

_So if we dump the kid in an orphanage, we would most likely get murdered, and if we take him in we have to put up with his freakishness, and risk him corrupting our son. _Vernon thought bitterly.

Vernon opened his mouth to retort but was stopped when the two heard Dudley crying upstairs. Petunia shot one last look at her husband before going back inside to see their child.

The large man glared at the boy on the doorstep. He stepped over the child and took a long stick that was lying on their front lawn.

He turned back towards the baby and very slowly, he prodded it with the stick. Once he was convinced that it wasn't going to fly up to his throat, he took the baby in his arms, making sure he was only touching the blankets and not the skin.

Bright green eyes stared up at him. The child had just woken up. Vernon checked his surroundings before saying in what he thought to be a terrifying voice:

"We are going to make you pay _boy_!"

The boy seemed to understand, because he shot the large man a filthy look. Vernon was taken aback. He didn't think that a child was able to produce that kind of look. He then dismissed it as a fickle of his imagination and turned back round and entered the house, without another word.

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><p>5 year old Harry Potter sighed. His life was hell. Ever since he could walk, he was given lots of chores to do. He had to get up at five every morning to be able to finish all of his chores for the day. He was punished if he didn't do them. He was either starved or got locked in his room, the cupboard under the stairs. If Vernon was in a really bad mood, then he would get struck. But to Harry relief, that happened rarely.<p>

Harry was highly intelligent for his age. He understood far more than what an average five year old could, and he knew how to take care of himself. That was perhaps because the Dursley's never made an attempt to help him with anything. They only took care of their own child, Dudley. But Harry didn't care. He had stopped caring a long time ago. The child had once thought that if he did extra chores and made himself practically invisible, then the Dursley's would notice him and love him. But no such thing happened. So he gave up.

Harry didn't remember his parents. Uncle Vernon had told him that his father was a drunk and that they'd died in a car crash. But the boy didn't know if his uncle was telling the truth or not. Nobody trusted the Dursley's.

He often wondered what his parents was like. If his mother was the same as her sister, or if she was different. He had asked aunt Petunia once about his parents. He had figured he'd be more safe asking his aunt than his uncle. She had thrown him a disdainful look, then answered:

_"They were freaks, the both of them."_

She had then turned her back on him, dismissing him.

Harry left his cupboard and went into the kitchen to start making breakfast. Half an hour later, the Dursley's joined him in the kitchen. Harry served them the food and went to leave when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Harry flinched slightly, waiting for the blow. But when it didn't, he turned his head and saw that it was aunt Petunia.

"Get yourself ready, you're going to the grocers with me," she announced dryly. "You're old enough to go do the shopping on your own. I'm going with you just this once to show you what to do, then you're on your own. Understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry before going back into his cupboard.

In the evening, Vernon came back from work later than usual. He was in an awful mood. The two kids were sound asleep. Petunia who had been pacing for the last hour, ran up to him and whispered:

"Vernon, thank god you're here! Someone recognized him!"

"Who?" he asked stupidly.

"The boy Vernon!" she exclaimed, panicking slightly. "Just as the freak and I stepped out of the grocer's, a man stopped us from going any further and then he started to stare at that ugly scar of his. He then started crying and shaking his hand. I had to physically pry him from the man."

Vernon got redder and redder in the face.

"I fucking hate the boy," growled the man. "If only we could get rid of him."

"I wish we could Vernon.. But we can't.." his wife said, defeated. "I don't know what to do..." she continued, her eyes filling up with tears.

Seeing his wife like this make Vernon even more angry towards the boy. He took the now weeping woman in his arms to comfort her. A couple of minutes later, the woman's sobs subsided.

He was now thinking of a way to get rid of the boy. They had a nice and calm life before that freak arrived. He was doing nothing but ruin their lives and giving them unwanted attention.

"Vernon?" she said. "You're hurting me."

"Sorry," he apologized, and broke the hug.

They lapsed into silence for the next couple of minutes, before Petunia broke it.

"I think we should get rid of that scar of his. At least we won't get anymore unwanted attention from any of _them. _They'll just think he's some other kid and won't take any notice of him."

"Do you have any idea how much a surgery like that would cost?" shouted the large man. "I don't want to spend any money on him! He doesn't deserve it! He's already lucky enough we accepted him into our home in the first place."

"As much as I don't want to do it, I think it's necessary Vernon," she insisted, paling slightly seeing the fury in her husband's eyes. "Not for him but for us, for Dudley. We have to make sure our son never comes face to face with one. I have a friend who would do the job, and I'm sure he would do it for half price, or even for free."

"Bullshit !" cried Vernon.

He punched the wall, breathing heavily. The tingling in his knuckles was slowly cleaning his head.

After some time, an idea popped up in his head. A sadistic grin formed on his lips.

"I've got another idea."

He raced into the kitchen and took out a knife from one of the draws.

* * *

><p>The first thing Harry knew, he was being violently pulled out of his cupboard by his hair, and was being dragged all the way down into the basement. He was whimpering in pain and asking his uncle what was going on, but he just ignored him. The man turned on the light and threw him onto the floor. Harry looked at him with wide eyes.<p>

_What have I done this time ?_ thought Harry.

Vernon cast Harry a really nasty look. The child flinched. He then lifted up the knife and started to examining it. As soon as Harry caught sight of the object, he started panicking. He jumped up and looked around him, for something to defend himself with. Finding nothing, he tried running back up to the door, but Vernon grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and chucked him back on the floor. The boy ignored the pain that caused to his back and scrambled up to his feet once more. He took a step backwards, and then another, until he had his back pressed up against a wall.

The man observed his nephew before laughing. It wasn't a pleasant sound. He then came closer and closer to Harry. He grabbed both of his arms in a bruising grip and pushed him violently against the wall.

"Well... I knew you were only going to bring us trouble," remarked Vernon coolly. "But this is going to cease now," continued the man as he brought up the kitchen knife to Harry throat.

Harry froze in horror.

"No uncle! Please no! I'll do anything! Please!" pleaded Harry, tears forming in his eyes.

He didn't want to die, not yet.

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Vernon.

Vernon released his grip on his right arm and slapped him across the cheek. Harry winced in pain, a couple of tears leaking from his eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you. No...You don't deserve the easy way out."

"I'm not going to die ?" Asked Harry hopefully, feeling slightly relieved.

Vernon ignored the child. He instead leaned forward to whisper something into his ear.

"You're going to suffer."

Harry shivered involuntarily, the relief he felt gone. He observed his uncle examining his knife again, before bringing it up to Harry's forehead, to his scar more precisely.

"W-What are you doing uncle ?" stammered the terrified boy.

"What's necessary."

The boy's uncle pressed the blade to the scar and slowly started to make an incision. Harry gasped in pain. Blood tricked down his face. Tears were flowing down his cheeks. The pain was unbearable. What had he done to deserve this? He knew they hated him, but this was going to far. The pain was blinding him. He could distantly hear his uncle's mad laughter.

Harry suddenly screamed when he felt the blade cross his right eye. Sobs were wracking his frame. He was praying for it to stop.

Just as he thought he was going to lose consciousness, he felt something at the pit of his stomach was something he had never felt before, but the sheer power of it, was agony. He felt like he was being continuously stabbed in the stomach. If Uncle Vernon was not holding him, he would have crumpled onto the floor.

A couple of seconds later, he felt it erupt violently from him. He gave an unearthly cry.

Just as Vernon started to realize that something was wrong, he got hit by a large red light. He crashed onto the table at the other side of the basement, unconscious.

Harry sunk to his knees, exhausted. Everything was spinning. He heard Petunia's shriek before the world went black.

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><p>Petunia was horrified. Her husband was unconscious and was bleeding. And it was all that brat's fault! She had had it. They'd move if necessary to protect their precious Dudders from those people, but she didn't want him around anymore.<p>

She wanted to phone the ambulance first, but she knew they couldn't. If they saw the freak like this, then they'd get arrested. She had to get rid of the boy first.

Having made her mind up, she picked Harry up while making sure she didn't get any blood on her. She didn't want to risk getting contaminated. She looked at him, a disgusted expression on her face. She went back upstairs and grabbed the car keys. The woman rushed outside and proceeded to put the _thing_ in the boot of her car, after making sure none of the neighbors were looking. She then got into the car and drove away.

Petunia didn't know where she was going. She just knew that she had to leave Harry somewhere far from here.

She drove for hours, trying to find a suitable place to put him. It had started to rain. She stopped the car and got out. She decided that this place would be suitable enough.

She dragged Harry out of the boot, who was regaining consciousness very slowly. She threw him in a pile of mud.

"Do not even think of coming back to us," threatened Petunia.

"Bu-But where am I supposed to go?" whispered Harry, too weak to shout.

"I don't care where you go, you can die for all I care but stay away from us!" retorted the aunt, cruelly. "To hell with Dumbledore! We have had it!We don't want your freakishness! It was a bad idea to convince Vernon to let you stay in the first place! We should have just dumped you in an orphanage."

"Maybe you should have. At least I wouldn't have been with you." the boy mumbled.

Unfortunately, the woman heard his remark. He kicked the child in the stomach. He groaned in pain, and curled up.

Petunia then got back in the car and drove away, without a backwards glance. Harry looked at the leaving car, tears prickling his eyes.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, a woman emerged from behind a tree.<p>

_Well, that was interesting, _thought the woman.

She approached the child slowly and knelt down beside him. The boy didn't seem to notice her presence.

A small gasp escaped her when she saw that his face was covered in blood. A huge incision had been made from his forehead and crossed his right eye. She doubted that he would see from that eye again. This and all the bruises on his arms were definite signs of abuse.

Had the boy been a muggle, she probably would have left him there, but that other woman had mentioned Albus Dumbledore. And she said that she didn't want his "freakishness". Was the woman referring to magic? So she assumed that the boy was a wizard. She was just hoping he wasn't a muggle born.

The woman placed tentatively a hand on the boy's shoulder. The child flinched but other than that he did nothing.

"What's your name child?"

He didn't answer straight away. She gazed at him once more, and couldn't help but shudder. The boy's face was devoid of any emotion. The woman was gob-smacked. It was not normal. She could also tell that he was more mature and intelligent than any other child of his age.

"Blayke.." Harry finally answered.

The woman couldn't tell if he was lying or not. But she was glad that she got the child talking.

"Come with me then Blayke."

"Why?" he asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm going to help you," she replied.

She stood up and pulled the boy to his feet. She went to grab his arm to apparate.

"How do I know I can trust you ?" said Harry, in a monotone voice.

"You don't, you just have to take a chance."

She forced a smile to not freak the boy out. The woman was getting ready to apparate again when he stopped her again:

"What's your name?"

"Narcissa Malfoy."

Narcissa tightened his grip on his arm. Less than a second later, they disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

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><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 2 ¤: <strong>

**Malfoy Manor**

Harry felt like as if he was being squished, then pulled into some sort of tube. It only lasted a second but as soon as everything seemed to get back to normal, he felt incredibly sick. He fell onto his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach. This, combined to the wound he had on his face, just made him feel a lot worse.

He got up slowly, shaking. That's when he realized that Narcissa Malfoy was standing next to him. The five year old child's eyes widened in fear.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." mumbled Harry.

"Don't worry about it," replied Mrs Malfoy. The boy looked at her in shock. "It's perfectly normal to have that kind of reaction. You've just experienced for the first time, the horrible sensation of Apparition. You'll get used to it soon enough," continued the woman kindly.

"Appa- What ?" asked Harry.

He had no idea what on earth apparition was. He saw Mrs Malfoy narrow her eyes, and wondered if he said something bad.

"You've never heard of apparition?" Harry shook his head.

Mrs Malfoy sighed. She took some sort of stick out of her pocket and waved it. The vomit on the floor disappeared instantly. Harry was jumped backwards, shocked. Once he got over the shock, he glanced at her and wondered if she was a magician.

The woman took Harry's hand and they started walking. It was only then that the child took notice of his surroundings. They were in front of a mansion that was surrounded with trees and plants. Even though it was dark, he could tell it was a beautiful place. Mrs Malfoy opened the front door and led Harry into the mansion.

Harry's mouth dropped open. They were standing in the hallway that was sumptuously decorated. This woman must be incredibly rich. Mrs Malfoy looked at him and smirked when she saw the awe written on his face. She announced in a proud voice:

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Blayke."

She was leading him into the living room, when something caught his attention. There were lots of paintings on the walls, but they seemed to be moving. Curious, he walked towards one. It was a painting of a elderly man, reading a book.

But suddenly the elderly man looked right at Harry. The child took a step back in surprise. The man put down the book.

"Hello there," said the painting with a smile.

Harry paled drastically.

_There's a painting talking to me. I must be going mad, _thought Harry, panicking slightly.

"Hey boy! Don't you have any manners!" scolded the painting. "You could at _least_ say hello."

He opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He closed it again.

"Hey kid, are you deaf?" The portrait looked at the aristocratic woman. "What is he doing here Lady Malfoy? Since when have you decided to invite such disrespectful people?"

All of this was too overwhelming for Harry. He was physically and emotionally drained, and he was in excruciating pain. And on top of that there was a painting talking to him.

His felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Harry woke up some time after. He was lying in a bed. A bed much more comfortable than the one he had in the cupboard.

_What's going on? _He thought. _This is not my bed._

That was when the memories floated back towards him. Vernon attacking him, his aunt abandoning him on the street, the woman taking him with her. Harry felt tears prickle his eyes. He might have hated the Dursley's but they were still his family. He couldn't help but feel betrayed.

He wiped angrily the tears away and pushed himself into a sitting position. He was in a huge bedroom. The walls were decorated with green and silver paint. There was a bathroom linked to the room as well.

Sunlight was creeping through the closed shutters.

The child got up wearily from the bed. That's when he realized that he was feeling much better than before. Harry looked around for his clothes and found them folded up on the end of the bed. He picked up his top and couldn't help noticing that it had shrunk and it now fitted him just fine. He was used to wearing Dudley's cast-offs and even though he was Harry's age, he was five times bigger than he was. Harry put on his trousers and saw that they were mended, no more holes. The boy was pleasantly surprised.

The child then went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. There was a huge scar on his face, where his uncle had gotten him with the knife. His lighting shaped scar was barely visible now. You could only notice it if you looked at it closely. Harry guessed that uncle Vernon wanted to hide it.

He traced the scar with his finger, upset. He tried to open his right eye but found that he couldn't. Harry came to the conclusion he would never see from that eye again_._ He felt anger pulse through his veins. The remaining love he felt towards his uncle, if there was any, was now gone. He truly hated his uncle. His uncle would definitely pay when he was older.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom and opened his bedroom door. This place really was huge. He came down the stairs and started looking for Mrs Malfoy. He found her in the dining room sitting at a table. A man was with her. He assumed was the woman's husband. He had long pale blond hair and had cold gray eyes. They were in mid conversation.

Harry hesitated whether to come in or not. He then decided he shouldn't disturb them and made to go back up the stairs when the man, feeling his presence, turned his head to look at him. Harry froze. They stared at eachover for a moment before the man's lips curled up into a sneer.

"I see our... guest has awoken.." commented the man, dryly.

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Umm.. Good-morning Mr Malfoy ?" tried the child uncertainly.

The man stayed silent for a moment.

"Well, what are you standing around for, come!" he then snapped.

The child jumped a little before moving slowly to the table. The man then gestured for him to sit in the chair at the other side of the table so that he was in front of him. He did so reluctantly. Mrs Malfoy's husband freaked him out.

Mrs Malfoy smiled at him.

"Do you feel better Blayke?"

"I do, thank you Mrs Malfoy," answered Harry shyly.

"You must be hungry. Do you want some breakfast?" asked the woman.

Without waiting for an answer she called:

"Dobby!"

A weird creature with huge ears, wearing an ugly and dirty rag appeared out of thin air next to the woman. Harry was expecting anything but that. Harry let out a little squeak before falling off his chair. The creature who was called Dobby stared at Harry, a fearful expression on its face.

"Dobby is a BAD elf!" screeched the creature as he turned to face Mrs Malfoy. "Dobby has injured Mistress's guest. Dobby must punish himself."

Dobby then started hitting his face on the table, squeaking: "BAD! BAD DOBBY!"

"Quiet Dobby!" Ordered Mr Malfoy, a cold look on his face.

The creature complied.

"Dobby, go make our guest some breakfast," commanded Mrs Malfoy, ignoring the creature's ranting.

The creature bowed and disappeared with a crack. Harry got back up and sat on the chair, getting over the shock. He then saw Mr Malfoy glaring at his wife. He looked quite scary when he did that.

"You brought a _mudblood_ in our home?" the man hissed.

"You don't know that he is a mudblood." countered the woman.

"The child has obviously never seen a house elf!"

"That still doesn't mean that he's a mudblood. He could have just been raised by muggles. The way woman who abandoned him was talking to him, I'd be very surprised if she was his mother."

"Who are your parents, boy?" barked Mr. Malfoy, forcing him into the conversation.

Harry had no idea what they were talking about. What was a "mudblood" and what was a "muggle"?

But seeing the man getting furious, he felt a sudden urge to lie. He was trying to find a plausible lie when the man slammed his hand on the table, making him jump violently.

"Tell me NOW!"

"I-I don't r-remember !" Stammered Harry.

_That could work,_ he thought desperately.

This statement was followed by silence. He looked at the married couple. They were both frowning. Harry was wondering if they could tell he was lying.

"You don't remember?" questioned Mr. Malfoy calmly. Too calm for Harry's liking.

The child slowly shook his head.

"And you expect us to believe that load of nonsense? You should show respect to your betters."

"But I'm telling the truth!" yelled Harry, summoning all the courage he had.

He couldn't possibly tell the truth now. He didn't have a death wish.

"Silence you insufferable brat!" shouted Mr. Malfoy. "I demand that you tell the truth this instant!"

"I believe him Lucius," said Narcissa Malfoy. Harry looked up at her, hopefully. "He was in a horrible state yesterday. Perhaps he hit his head. He could have developed amnesia," suggested the woman.

"He's lying, and you know it" the man said shortly.

"You don't know that he is. You haven't got any proof."

"Still, I don't want a lying mudblood in _this _home!" he announced angrily. "It would ruin the Malfoy reputation my family has worked so hard to get!"

Mr Malfoy was livid. The child looked at the woman., but she didn't take any notice of him.

A couple of seconds later, Dobby popped back in, holding a big plate filled with bacon and eggs. Harry stared at it hungrily. It smelled ten times nicer than the scraps he had to eat at the Dursley's.

"Here is the food that Mistress requested," the creature said, and bowed.

It went to put it on the table but tripped over and fell. Dobby dropped the plate of food in the process. The plate smashed on the floor and the food flew everywhere. The creature paled.

"Dobby is so sorry! It was an accident!" Dobby shrieked.

It frantically snapped its finger, the food and the broken plate disappearing.

"Dobby!" said Mr Malfoy in a threatening voice.

Dobby squealed. The man clothes were covered in grease. He was glaring daggers at the creature. Dobby backed away from the man, before starting to hit his head hard once again on the table repeatedly, while wailing:

"Dobby ruined Master's clothes! Dobby is sorry! BAD DOBBY! BAD! BAD!"

Harry was watching the scene, his mouth wide open. Harry actually thought for a moment that Mr. Malfoy was going to burst. But instead, he stood and stormed out of the room.

* * *

><p>Lucius Malfoy came home from the ministry in a terrible mood. He still hadn't processed the recent events. There was a person in his home who was most likely a mudblood. The man wanted nothing more but to kick the kid out of the manor. He couldn't deal with this, he had too much work on his plate.<p>

He didn't know why, but Narcissa seemed to have taken a liking to the child. It was bizarre. She was always cold and distant with everyone apart from him and Draco. But strangely enough, she acted warmly towards the boy, as if he was her son. She obviously wanted the kid to stay. But he wondered if she would still want to, if he could somehow prove that he really was a mudblood.

He sighed. He decided to go find Narcissa, in order to have a talk with her about this whole situation.

But the man suddenly stopped in his tracks when he heard some strange hissing noise coming from the garden outside. He took his wand out as a precaution and proceeded to follow the weird noise.

He then came face to face with a scene he was not expecting in the slightest. Blayke, if that really was his real name, was sitting on the grass facing a reasonably big snake.

_What the bloody hell is he doing ? He's going to get himself killed! _he thought, alarmed.

The boy then started making some hissing noise to the snake. Lucius eyes widened in shock.

_The boy's a Parselmouth !_ he realized.

He suddenly envied the child. It was an extremely rare gift, a gift he would have loved to have to possess. He knew that Severus also would kill to be able communicate with snakes.

He then realized that if Blayke could talk to snakes, he most definitely was NOT a mudblood. No mudblood in the history of the wizarding world could do that. It was a gift that was only inherited by purebloods. So he came to the conclusion that the boy's family were wizards. And on top of that, being able to speak Parseltongue was considered to be a dark trait. So there was a high probability that his family was dark, or at the very least gray.

Perhaps Blayke wasn't as bad as he originally thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 3 ¤:<strong>

**A Crazy Old Hat**

Blayke Malfoy was sitting in a train compartment. He was finally going to Hogwarts. He'd been waiting for this day for years. A rare smile was plastered on his face.

Blayke was an odd kid. Over the years he had changed a lot. He was no longer the helpless, naïve and timid child he once was. He'd grown into a cold, solitary, distrustful and independent individual. He had learned control his emotions in public, so he always kept them hidden under an expressionless mask. The boy was also an excellent liar. He used his intelligence to study hard, so he was now very advanced, magic wise.

The boy's physical appearance had changed a lot as well. Since he was no longer malnourished and treated like a slave, he was now the average height and weight of an eleven year old, if perhaps only slightly smaller. The boy had medium length black hair that was tied back into a short ponytail. It was no longer untamable. Narcissa had looked for months for a potion that would straighten his hair. He had pale skin which made his emerald green eye stand out. His right eye was hidden with an eye patch. Ever since that episode that involved his uncle, he was left with a horrible scar. And because the scar wasn't a particularly attractive one, he decided to hide it. It gave him a mysterious look, so Blayke was content with it.

Blayke was brought out of his musings when the compartment door opened. He turned his head and saw a young red-head standing in the doorway. There was no mistaking the identity of this kid.

_Great.. Just my luck. A Weasley, _thought Blayke, bitterly.

"Hey mate, do you mind ? Everywhere else is full," asked the red-head.

"Umm.. Yeah I actually do mi…"

But it was too late. The boy was already settling himself down on the seat in front of him.

"Oh my god! What the bloody hell happened to your eye?" exclaimed the Weasley kid, stupidly.

_Wow, so tactful!_ thought the black haired boy sarcastically. This kid was only there for about thirty seconds, and he was already starting to frustrate him.

"I got trampled on by a herd of enraged unicorns and one stabled me multiple times in the eye with its horn." he invented.

"Wow really? That's so cool, mate!" said Weasley obviously missing the note of sarcasm in Blayke's voice. The look of admiration on his face made Blayke nearly snort with laughter.

"Can I look at it?" he asked. "It looks pretty gruesome."

"No," Blayke answered coldly.

An awkward silence followed that statement. The red haired boy rubbed his arm nervously.

"Anyway... I'm Ron Weasley, what about you?"

"Blayke."

"Blayke?" inquired Ron

"Just Blayke," he answered simply.

"So what house d'you think you'll be in? All my brothers have been sorted into Gryffindor. It's by far the best house!"

Blayke suddenly smirked. He just had this wonderful idea. He might as well have a bit of fun if the kid was insisting on staying.

"I don't have a preference, I'll just have to see," he replied. "But you know, I don't think that you'll be in Gryffindor. You look more like a Slytherin to me."

The red-head snorted.

"Yeah right!"

"I'm serious, I've _seen_ it," announced Blayke emphasizing the word "seen". He stared at the Weasley kid, as he burst out laughing.

"A seer? You're hilarious! I'm not going to fall for that crap, mate! There ain't no such thing as seers, they pass all of their time inventing crap!" he said through fits of laughter, clearly not believing him.

"How dare you mock my abilities," Blayke said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Errr..What?" the red-head muttered, confused.

"My whole family are seers. And I assure you, we don't go tell a load of shit to people! How dare you speak of seers like that!" He watched Weasley's face pale drastically.

"Oh sorry, mate, I thought you were jocking!" He stammered.

"Well I wasn't," he said shortly.

"Umm. So y-you're a real seer?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, you've seen me getting sorted into Slytherin?" he continued in a small voice.

"Yeah wherever you believe it or not, I do have the gift of foresight, so I've seen it. I've also seen that you'll be sent home by Albus Dumbledore because it was a mistake for you to attend Hogwarts. You have magic don't get me wrong, but not enough to be able to attend magic school. You just have a bit more magic than a squib," Said Blayke in a grave voice."And don't even ask, I'm telling the truth."

The Weasley kid looked like he was going to faint. Blayke was just about to burst out laughing when someone beat him to it. Draco had just entered the compartment.

"That was RICH Blayke !" told Draco, between fits of laughter.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy ?" shouted Weasley, momentarily forgetting Blayke's false revelation.

"I'm here to see my brother, Weasley," sneered Draco. The Malfoy kids smirked when they saw Ron's facial expression, of absolute horror.

"You're a Malfoy ?" blurted out the red-head.

"Yep. Now if you would kindly leave and find another compartment I would appreciate it," declared the black haired boy as he took out his wand and banished him out of the compartement.

* * *

><p>The group of students was waiting outside the Great Hall for Professor McGonagall to come back and lead them in. They were all scared and anxious, well that was, apart from Blayke and Draco. Lucius had already told them that they got sorted with the courtesy of an ugly, and dirty magic hat.<p>

That's why they howled with laughter when they heard Weasley saying that they had to battle a troll. Weasley's face turned red in embarrassment, mumbling that it was something his brothers said.

Meanwhile, there was a bushy brown haired girl muttering under her breath all the spells she had memorized. You could see that she was panicking slightly. Draco noticed him gazing at her and whispered:

"That's Hermione Granger. A mudblood. Met her on the train. She's annoying as hell!"

Blayke smirked at this revelation. He took a couple of steps forward until he had reached her. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, and smiled.

"Don't worry sweetheart, you won't have to fight a troll, do you really think a mudblood such as yourself would survive the task?" he said cruelly.

"I don't know what you mean," said the bushy haired girl, the smile now gone as she processed his words.

"Well let me explain it to you then. Your lot, mudbloods are feeble. You can't use magic like a pureblood or even a half-blood. It's an abomination that the ministry lets your lot hold a wand and go to magic school," explained Blayke, disgust thick in his voice.

Hermione eyes started to fill with tears. Draco, enjoying this way too much, couldn't help but add:

"You know, Blayke, I think we should talk to Father about changing the way of the sorting, you know, include the troll. I'm sure he would be able to do something about it. That way, the world would be rid of all those _disgusting_ mudbloods."

The girl looked at them in horror before starting to cry. The two boys smiled evilly and turned their back on her. The transfiguration teacher arrived at that point. The two boys tensed up, hoping that the professor hadn't heard anything. But thankfully she didn't notice the sobbing girl.

The woman opened the doors and let them into the Great Hall.

The woman then proceeded to take out the dusty hat and call out names alphabetically, from a list. The first girl, Hannah Abbot got sorted into Hufflepuff. Blayke quickly became bored and tuned them out.

He snapped out of his bubble when a brown haired boy, Neville Longbottom ran towards the Gryffindor table while still wearing the sorting hat. His caused some snickering from him and from a couple of other people. McGonagall cast him a disapproving look but he just shrugged in response.

"Blayke Malfoy!" called out the teacher, a couple of minutes later.

The boy straightened out his robes and walked towards the chair. His steps were slow but confident. He kept his face blank, devoid of any emotion. There were some of the students whispering and pointing at his face, but he just ignored them. Once he was settled on the chair, the professor placed the hat on his head. The object covered his eyes. Blayke waited.

"Well, well what do we have here?" said a voice inside Blayke's head, making him jump slightly. Lucius didn't mention that the thing would speak to you. "Mr. Malfoy…. or should I say Mr. Potter?"

Blayke froze. Nobody knew who he really was, not even the Malfoys. And he couldn't risk anybody finding out. He quickly put up his Occlumency shields, preventing the hat from seeing his memories.

"Now we can't have that Harry Potter, if you do that, then I can't see which traits you possess so I won't be able to sort you," told the Hat.

"I don't give a damn, hat," retorted Blayke cooly.

"Well that's all very well, but I can't sort you unless you take down your Occlumency shields."

"Just save yourself the trouble and put me in Slytherin! You and I both know that's where I belong," said Blayke.

"I'm not just going to put you in Slytherin, I need access to your memories."

"Well you're not going to, so fuck off!" snapped the black haired boy.

"Watch your tongue, Harry Potter! Well it's either that, or I tell the Headmaster who you really are."

Blayke was livid. How dare that old hat blackmail him! He wanted nothing more but to take the hat off his head and curse it into oblivion.

But he didn't really have a choice. He stayed silent, seething.

"Well," prompted the hat. "What's it going to be? Your shields or your identity?"

Very slowly, Blayke lowered his shields, glaring nastily at the hat.

"That wasn't so hard now was it? Now onto the sorting... Let's see... You're very wise and intelligent and pass your free time reading. Ravenclaw would do well for you. You're loyal to your friends and you would even die for them. Helga Hufflepuff would be happy to have you. Oh but such bravery! Gryffindor would be great for you. But you're also very cunning and possess so much ambition. You want to prove yourself. You want to be great but not as Harry Potter. Oh my, my..." muttered the hat, slightly worried. "Darkness surrounds your aura. You want revenge and soon. You want to see your muggle relatives dead." Blayke clenched his fists.

"Aren't we getting off the topic?" growled Blayke.

"But you don't want your relatives just dead, you want them to pay them back ten times what they did to you," continued the Sorting hat completely ignoring him. "And you're going to do whatever it takes to make your wish become true. I've only seen this will in one other child's mind and that was over fifty years ago... And I think you know who I'm talking about..."

"Look, it's none of your business, so drop it!" he said in a very cold voice. "Just carry on with the sorting before I do something I regret!"

The old object surprised Blayke by chuckling.

"Right, let's continue. Well you possess the qualities required for every house. So you pretty much have the choice. So which house do you want to be in?"

"Slytherin!" announced Blayke without hesitation. "I choose Slytherin house!"

"No," declared the hat.

Silence followed that statement.

"What do you mean 'no'?" asked the black haired boy wearily.

"I mean, no you can't go into Slytherin." replied the hat in a stern voice.

"WHAT?" cried Blayke, outraged. "But you just said..."

"I didn't say you have the choice did I? I said you pretty much have the choice. It's not the same thing."

Blayke was barely restraining himself from destroying the hat.

"But why can't I go into Slytherin?" he inquired, while trying to stay calm.

"The Boy-Who-Lived isn't supposed to go into Slytherin," answered the Sorting hat, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I haven't been Harry Potter in years. I stopped being him the night I stepped into Malfoy Manor. I've been Blayke Malfoy ever since. I'm no longer the Boy-Who-Lived," uttered the boy. "Therefore I can go in that house!"

"I'm afraid not. I can't sort you into that house because the headmaster has placed some sort of charm on me to place Harry Potter into Gryffindor, if he was still alive."

"Then what was the fucking point in asking me to lower my shields in order to read my mind and see my memories if you'd already picked my house?" screamed Blayke.

"It amuses me," replied the hat, smirking.

Blayke Malfoy was ready to kill something. That thing was even more annoying than that Ronald Weasley. He absolutely did NOT want to go into Gryffindor. He would either get viciously murdered if he got sorted there, or he would be kicked out of the Malfoy home. Or both if he was very unlikely.

"Look fine! Put me in any other house apart from Gryffindor! Well okay, not Hufflepuff, I don't see the point in that house existing. If you can't Slytherin, put me at least in Ravenclaw!" he reasoned.

"Alas! I'm sorry Mr. Potter. I can't do anything for you..."

"NO DON'T DO THIS! I'LL DO ANYTHING!" pleaded Blayke. He wasn't the type of person to do that, but in this case, he didn't have a choice.

The hat stayed silent for a moment.

"You'll do anything? That's a tempting thought..."

Just as Blayke was starting to think he had found a way out of this situation, the hat said:

"Sorry Harry Potter, I wish you the best of luck."

"Shit..." he muttered, knowing what was going to happen next..

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the hat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 4 ¤: <strong>

**'A Warm Welcome'**

Blayke was frozen in the seat. He was absolutely livid. He couldn't believe that he was sorted into Gryffindor. He was going to be literately killed by Lucius and Narcissa. He was forcing himself not to lose control of his magic, so that he wouldn't blow up the school.

The Great Hall was deathly silent. He slowly stood up. His gaze traveled across the room. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had horrified expressions on their faces. The Gryffindors because their house had acquired a future dark wizard, and a Malfoy on top of that, and the Slytherins because he didn't get sorted into the lion's den. The other two houses didn't seem to know what to make of this.

The black haired boy turned around to look at the staff. They looked terrible. McGonagall looked like she was going to faint. Snape was trying to maintain his cold mask, but was failing miserably.

But Blayke was taken aback when his gaze met Dumbledore's. His expression was the worst. The twinkle in his eyes was gone. He had a frown plastered on his face and was sporting a calculating look that was making him feel very uneasy.

But then something happened he wasn't expecting. The boy felt a gentle prod in his mind. The headmaster was pushing against his Occlumency shields. He widened his eye in realization. The old man was a Legilimens. Knowning that only made him angrier.

He proceeded to push him out with all his force. Dumbledore, not expecting the attack, nearly fell of his chair. Blayke glared at him.

The headmaster cast him an odd look, before smiling. But Blayke knew that it was completely false. The man then stood and announced:

"Well, this is unexpected. But I must say that I am extremely glad of this turn of events. Perhaps this might finally help patch up the rivalries between the Gryffindor and Slytherin house. Welcome to Gryffindor house Mr. Malfoy!"

Dumbledore then started clapping. Only a few people joined him. Blayke thought that he was going to be sick. The old man was just making everything worse. He considered running out of the Great Hall, but he didn't want to draw any more attention to himself.

Slowly, the boy went towards the lion's table. He sat at the end of the table, not wanting to socialize with any of them.

McGonagall carried on reluctantly with the sorting. The next name on the list was Draco's. The blond haired boy sat on the chair. Blayke could see fire in his eyes. He'd never seen him this way, and it unsettled him.

The hat was then placed on his head. The hat shouted, after barely touching the boy's head:

"SLYTHERIN !"

Draco stood up and went to his table. Draco and Blayke locked eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before the blond haired boy sneered and looked away.

_So much for family._ thought the boy, anger coursing through his veins.

The rest of the sorting was done fairly quickly. The food then appeared on each table, but Blayke wasn't hungry. He reluctantly pilled up his plate with vegetables, but he didn't really eat anything. He was mostly pushing the food around with his fork.

Once the meal was over, the prefect, who Blayke guessed by the hair color was a Weasley, showed them to the Gryffindor Common Room. Blayke went straight up to the dorms, threw himself onto his bed and pulled the curtains so that the rest of the first years would think he was sleeping.

Some time after, his new classmates came up to the dorm. Even though he couldn't see them, he could feel them glaring daggers at him. Blayke ignored them. His thoughts traveled back up to the sorting.

The fact that damn hat knew everything about him was disturbing. But what scared him the most was that the old thing knew that he was Harry Potter, and that it could tell the headmaster at any moment.

On top of that, the hat revealed something really interesting. The hat had said that the headmaster had placed a compulsion charm on it to place Harry Potter into Gryffindor, if he was still alive. That meant that Dumbledore still thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was alive, after all those years.

When people had found out about his disappearance, it had caused an uproar throughout the wizarding world, much to his surprise. That's when he found out about his status.

Search teams had been dispatched all around the United Kingdom, but he nobody found him. So as the years went by, the British population finally came to the conclusion that he was dead. He had thought that Dumbledore would have reached that same conclusion, but he was obviously wrong.

Blayke knew that he would have to be very careful from now on. The headmaster must already be suspicious of him.

The boy sighed. He was at Hogwarts for a couple of hours and he was already wishing he could go home.

* * *

><p>"Sit," ordered Professor Snape coldly to the class.<p>

The Gryffindors were seated at the left of the class, the Slytherins at the right. Blayke ended up sitting next to a round face boy, who if he remembered right, was called Neville Longbottom. Blayke didn't have anything against the boy, but he seemed to be absolutely terrified of him. The kid was sitting as far away from him as possible and he kept shooting him terrified glances, which was frankly starting to annoy him.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," began the potions professor in a voice barely more than a whisper. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Even though Blayke wasn't keen on the man, he had to admit that it was a very good speech, especially because he knew that the man had no desire to teach Potions, but Defense against the Dark Arts instead.

"Draco Malfoy, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Granger's hand shot up. Blayke rolled his eyes.

"You would get a sleeping potion very powerful known as the Draught of the Living Death, professor," answered Draco proudly.

"Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir."

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There's no difference, sir. It also goes by the name of aconite," replied the blond haired boy.

"Very Good, Mr. Malfoy. Twenty points to Slytherin," declared Snape, making all the Slytherin's smile and the Gryffindors do exactly the opposite. Granger put her hand down, slightly disappointed.

The teacher then turned to look at Blayke. He met the professor's cold eyes with his neutral ones. Snape smirked slightly.

"Now let's see if Mr. Malfoy's _brother _has the same potential," said the teacher, emphasizing the word 'brother', making him frown slightly. "What effect does the Polyjuice Potion have on the drinker?" ordered Snape.

He almost burst out laughing when the muggle-born jumped out of her seat, her hand in the air, as if she was trying to touch the ceiling.

_He's already starting with complicated questions I see, that's not even on the first year syllabus. _thought Blayke.

"It's to assume the form of another person. It cannot be used to take an animal form though, and a half-breed to won't be able to assume a human form, professor."

"What potion appears clear and odourless, that looks like water and what is that potion used for?"

"Veritaserum sir, and it is used to force the drinker to speak truthfully, like in a trial for example. Only three drops are used. But even though it's the most powerful truth serum to exist, it can still be resisted by some who have grown accustomed to it."

Snape scowled. Blayke was mentally doing a victory dance.

"For how long must it mature before being used?"

"It must mature for one lunar phase, which is about 28 days, sir."

"Give me the properties of the Draught of Peace, and the ingredients used to brew it" he ordered, a promise of murder in his eyes.

Blayke knew that he wasn't going to give up until he got a question wrong, which was going to be anytime soon. He was knowledgeable in Potions, but it was far from his best subject.

"It's a potion, if well brewed, relieves all anxiety and agitation of the person who drinks it." replied Blayke with a slight smile on his face. The potion's ingredients are powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, Valurium root and – "

"Five points from Gryffindor," interrupted Snape, who was now smirking.

"_Excuse-me ?_" asked Blayke, startled.

"Five points from Gryffindor," repeated the greasy haired professor, an evil smile tugging at his lips. "For mispronunciation. It's pronounced Val**e**rium root, not Val**u**rium root. And I think an extra five points would be in order for not addressing me by my given title at the end of your question," he added.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Blayke tore his gaze from him. He knew that the grease bag was a Legilimens so he didn't want to push his luck. Even though he was trained in Occlumency, his skills were still mediocre. After all, it was because of him he started Occlumency in the first place.

Snape ordered Granger to sit down and took five points from Gryffindor. The girl looked down at the table, blushing furiously. The Slytherins seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Snape proceeded with the lesson. He paired up the class. Blayke, much to his dismay, got stuck with Neville Longbottom who make a weird squeaking sound when he told them. He was terrible at potions. Blayke was lucky to have gone through the lesson without the cauldron blowing up.

* * *

><p>Blayke entered the Great Hall and scanned the Slytherin table for Draco. But seeing that he wasn't present, he dejectedly sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table, as he did for breakfast and lunch, not wanting to converse with the rest of the lion's house.<p>

He served himself some shepherd's pie and was just about to take a bite out of his fork when his plate was yanked from him. He looked up to see Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan standing on the other side of the table. The red-head was holding Blayke's plate of food.

Blayke raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the red-head.

"Eating dinner, or was until you took my plate," replied Blayke innocently. Weasley's ears turned red in fury.

"I mean here at the Gryffindor table."

"Oh!" he said in false realization. "Believe me, it pains me to have to sit here and endure your petty little conversations, but sadly I do. Now if you would give me back my plate, I'd appreciate it."

"You don't have the right to eat _our_ food," growled Weasley. The two boys next to him nodded. He didn't know why, but they reminded him of a slightly less stupid versions of Crabbe and Goyle.

Blayke rolled his eyes.

"Why would that be? I see everybody else eating, why wouldn't I be allowed to?"

"Because you don't belong here! Go back to your evil serpent friends!" bellowed the boy.

The Great Hall had fallen silent. Everybody had stopped eating and was watching the scene curiously.

"Ronald, you shouldn't say that! It's not very nice," scolded the Granger girl.

"Shut it mudblood, it isn't any of your business," hissed Blayke.

The muggle-born stood up and ran from the Great Hall, tears flowing down her cheeks. There were cries of outrage from everybody apart from the Slytherins.

"You'll pay for that one, _snake,_" threatened the red haired boy.

"DETENTION MR MALFOY AND MR WEASLEY!" shouted Professor McGonagall who was looking at them furiously.

"But why professor, I haven't done anything !" whined Weasley.

He looked like that he was close to throwing a tantrum.

"Don't give me that!" she snapped exasperatedly. "You shouldn't be threatening other students. And if you continue to complain and the consequences will be more severe. And you," she said, turning to Blayke, "don't use that foul name in my presence again! Both of you will be coming to my office after dinner so we can discuss who you'll be serving detention with. Are we clear?"

The two boys nodded.

"Oh and give back 's plate, ," she ordered.

The Weasley kid shot Blayke one last look of loathing before putting down the plate and going back to his place at the table, to finish his dinner.

Blayke quirked an eyebrow at Weasley before standing up and leaving the Great Hall, abandonning his half eaten plate of food.


	5. Chapter 5

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.****  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 5 ¤:<strong>

**Constant Vigilance **

Blayke was leaning against the wall, outside McGonagall's office, waiting for her and Weasley to arrive. He honestly couldn't care less about getting detention; he just hoped that he and the Weasley wouldn't be forced to spend some time together. That boy's obnoxious personality was just so infuriating. The black-haired boy knew that he would never be able to get along with him.

McGonagall arrived five minutes later, with the company of Weasley, who had a very disgruntled look on his face. They entered the office. She seated herself on her chair and took out some documents from one of her draws and examined them. She then took a parchment and started to write, whilst completely ignoring the two boys.

After about five minutes of scribbling, Ron was beginning to grow restless. He kept glancing at the chair, in a desperate sort of way. Blayke couldn't stop himself from smirking. Even though he didn't like his head of house, he now loved her for tormenting Ronald Weasley.

He knew this attitude was also destined towards him, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit uneasy. After all, nothing was worse than the Dursley's.

Five minutes after that, the professor finally stopped writing and looked at the two boys.

"Sit," she ordered, gesturing the two seats in front of her.

The Weasley kid practically jumped into the chair, whereas Blayke sat down normally, maintaining his expressionless mask.

"So," she started. "You two know why you're here, don't you?" The two kids nodded reluctantly. "And why is that Mr. Weasley?"

"Because I threatened Malfoy," replied the Gryffindor glumly.

"Good. And tell me, why are you here Mr. Malfoy?"

Blayke looked down at the floor, making him seem apologetic and embarrassed. But the two other people in the office didn't notice his lips twitching upwards, revealing the slightest trace of amusement.

_I might as well have fun,_ he thought.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Mr. Malfoy!" snapped McGonagall.

Blayke, slowly lifted his gaze, and locked eyes with the professor's, guilt marked across his face.

"Sorry professor, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm here..." he trailed off. "I'm here because I was seated at the Gryffindor table," he murmured.

He knew that this wasn't the answer she was waiting for.

"Don't mock me!" snapped the professor. "Five points from Gryffindor!"

"But I wasn't mocking you professor, that's why I'm here," He protested innocently. "I was seated at the Gryffindor table during dinner. The hat may have putted me here, but that doesn't mean I _belong _here." Said Blayke, glancing at Weasley whose mouth had dropped open in shock.

He barely prevented himself from smirking when he saw Wealsey's reaction. McGonagall seemed to be taken aback by that response.

"Would you kindly tell me, why you think you don't belong in our house, ?" she asked carefully.

Blayke shifted in his seat, and tensed up, shooting frightened glances towards his classmate.

"I-I'd rather not tell," he said in a panicky voice.

"Mr. Malfoy, I asked you a question! Now unless you would rather serve detention with me until the end of term, I suggest that you tell me immediately!"

"NO NO!" the boy exclaimed. "It's just something Ronald said," he announced in a small voice, making the other boy glare daggers at him.

"That's not true professor! I didn't say anything!" he protested.

"Be quiet Mr. Weasley."

"But he's lying!" screamed the ginger-head, outraged.

"I repeat, be quiet or else I'll take away another five points." The Transfiguration teacher anounced coldly.

Ron was seething, but stayed silent.

"What did he say, Mr. Malfoy?" she inquired curiously.

"Well… he told me that I didn't have the right to eat the food of the Gryffindor table…" he paused before continuing in a shaky voice. "And when I asked him why, he said that I didn't belong here."

Silence followed that statement. After what seemed to be an eternity, the professor finally said:

"Anything else?"

Blayke shook his head. McGonagall looked livid. She shot a look that held promise of death towards Weasley, who sunk in his seat.

"How could you say such horrible things to your classmate? Shame on you! Fifteen points will be deducted from Gryffindor, and you will serve another week's detention."

"Professor McGonagall, that's not fair! None of what he said is true!" whined the ginger haired child.

"Please professor, don't be so harsh on him! He was only saying the truth!" objected Blayke, his eyes filling with false tears.

"Mr. Malfoy, whether it's true or not, he had no right to say such things. And I can assure you it most certainly isn't true!" the head of house told kindly, even though she look hesitant. "Now onto the detentions. Mr. Malfoy, you shall be serving detention with Professor Snape every evening at 8 o'clock, whereas you Mr. Weasley will be with Professor Sprout, also at 8. Your punishment will end by the end of the week for you , and at the end of next week for you . Return to your common room. Good night."

The two boys bid good night to her before leaving the office. As soon as Blayke closed the door, a triumphant smile appeared on his face, followed by a little mad cackle which made Weasley jump violently.

_That was far too easy,_ he thought.

He had managed to deceive his head of house so easily. He had honestly not expected that she would have fallen for that. But he knew he was an excellent actor.

He glanced at Weasley. The look on his face was just priceless.

The two boys walked silently to Gryffindor tower. Weasley kept on casting deep looks of loathing at him, which Blayke pointedly ignored.

When they arrived to the entrance, Weasley grumbled the password and the portrait opened.

But when Blayke tried to enter, he got viciously grabbed by the collar of his robes shoved against a wall. It was an intimidation tactic, but Blayke didn't fall for it. It only managed to amuse him.

"Listen you! Umm.. You're dead!" Ronald Weasley declared, his face turning red with fury.

Blayke couldn't resist. He burst out laughing.

"What are you laughing about?" shouted the ginger-haired boy, tightening his grip on Blayke's robes.

"Oh nothing at all Weasley," he said, between fits of laughter. "It was a very nice statement. But I've got to say I was expecting something a little more intimidating."

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Just so you know, you're going to pay. You may have fooled McGonagall but you haven't fooled me. Nobody in Gryffindor likes you, neither does anybody in Slytherin, you're all alone _mate. _You've got no one to protect you."

That statement wiped the smile of Blayke's face.

"I think I can protect myself," he said, giving Weasley an empty look.

The ginger-haired boy shuddered. He wearily let go of his robes before stepping into the common room.

"After all, I've always been alone," he continued sadly.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Blayke woke up in an awful mood. His scar had been hurting him all night, but what was odd was that it was only his old scar that was hurting. The rest that covered his eye didn't even prickle.<p>

Blayke had a bad feeling about this, he couldn't even remember the last time it had hurt him. He knew that this would be worth a trip to the library when he had the time.

He put aside his worries and got dressed. He then went down to the Great Hall. Not to have breakfast, but to find Draco. He knew it was now or never if he wanted to mend broken bridges. He checked t see if he was there. Once he located him, he went to the Slytherin's table, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

But as soon as he saw their faces, he knew that this was an extremely bad idea. But he had already gone this far. He would look like a fool if he turned away. So he reluctantly seated himself next to Draco who was helping himself to some toast. Draco raised an eyebrow but other than that made no motion that he had notices him. The rest of the serpents though were looking at him, death in their eyes. Blayke knew they wanted to do something, but they would face Snape's wrath if they tried something here.

"Good morning everyone," he greeted jovially.

No one answered him. He refused to make the others make him feel uneasy, so he snatched some toast and proceeded to butter it, pointedly ignoring the Slytherin's looks. But he caught the smirk on Draco's face. Draco had known him for years so he was the only person who knew what he was hiding behind his mask.

He noticed some time later, that he and Draco were the only ones eating. The Slytherins were either whispering amongst them, or staring at him. But Blayke just ignored them, knowing that if he said anything, they would win. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. It wasn't his fault he was sorted in that damn "Gryffindork" house.

It was Draco who finally broke some of the tension by passing Blayke a letter.

"Father sent us a letter each yesterday. I would have given it to you but you were never alone," he said neutrally, still not bothering to look at him.

"What did he say in your letter?" he inquired, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"That he was grateful that I was sorted into the most prodigious house of Hogwarts, that he would be expecting great things from me from now on, as he wouldn't want another embarrassment in the Malfoy family," recited blond haired boy in a toneless voice, making the words seem even more hurtful.

Blayke nodded and stood up from the table, his letter clutched in his hand. Blayke then left the Great Hall and went into an empty corridor. When he was sure that nobody was going to disturb him, he opened the letter from Lucius:

_Blayke,_

_I must say that I was outraged when I found out that a Malfoy got sorted into another house instead of Slytherin. I'm extremely disappointed in you. Your mother feels the same way that I do. I expected better, and not just because you are my son, but also because you're a Parslemouth. It should be an honor for you to speak the language of the snakes. Salazar has given you that gift, but instead of cherishing it like you ought to, and honoring Salazar by going into Slytherin, you go and waste it all in Gryffindor. You are an embarrassment for the Malfoy family. _

_You will fix this immediately. If you don't, consider yourself disowned. _

_Lucius._

The emerald eyed boy looked disdainfully at the now crumpled letter before casting an _Incendio_ on it. How on earth was he supposed to fix this? He was not about to go and plead to the headmaster to change houses. He had more pride than that.

"I know there's more to this than you might think Blayke," said a familiar voice behind him, making him turn around, ending up face to face with Draco.

"I mean, for years you've insulted the Gryffindors and you've always hated them, as have I." continued Draco in a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. "And besides, you possess all the qualities to go to Slytherin or even Ravenclaw house. It's just weird that out of all the houses, you wound up there. You have to agree that something isn't quite right here. So I've come to two conclusions. Either someone has put some sort of compulsion charm on the hat to place whatever student into that particular house, or else you're hiding something from me, something that made the hat place you into Gryffindor."

Blayke was worried. But he didn't let it show on his face. If he did, he knew that it would be game over. Draco was incredibly smart.

But what Draco didn't know was that he was right with his two assumptions. The headmaster had placed some sort of spell on the hat to place Harry Potter into Gryffindor, should he appear one day out of the blue. Also that he has been hiding his true identity from his brother, an identity that the hat found out and because of it, he got placed into Gryffindor.

"I honestly don't know why the hat put me there," the emerald eyed boy said slowly. "It's like a nightmare, except one I can't wake up from. If only I could make the hat change his mind about his decision. I've got to figure ou-".

"_We've_ got to figure out a plan," interrupted Draco. "Don't be so selfish as to think that you're going to do this alone, Blayke. I don't hate you, as you may think. We're still brothers, no matter what. It… It just takes some time adjusting to," he admitted.

Blayke was relieved. He knew that he shouldn't have doubted his brother, but he couldn't help himself. After all ever since the Dursley's, he's had some serious trusting issues. That was something not even Narcissa could get rid off.

But even though Draco said that they would remain brothers no matter what, he wondered if he would think the same thing if one day he found out that he was Harry Potter.

"Thank you Draco, I really appreciate it," He uttered after a couple of seconds.

* * *

><p>At eight o'clock, Blayke was knocking on Professor Snape's door. The man greeted him with his usual cold look before letting him in the classroom. He was ordered to scrub the cauldrons without using magic. Blayke started to work.<p>

But no less than five minutes later, he felt the man's eyes on him. He tried to ignore it and forced himself not to look at him because he that he would try to enter his mind if he did. Snape could break so easily his barriers.

So he was forced to stay on his guard when he was around him.

**Flashback:**

_Blayke had been staying at Malfoy Manor for about three weeks and he absolutely loved it there. It was ten times better than the Dursleys. Sure Draco seemed to be jealous of him and acted like a spoilt brat, but Narcissa treated him as any mother would. Lucius seemed to like him too, which was odd considering he wanted to kick him out when he first met him. _

_He was sitting on an armchair with Narcissa when the flames in the fireplace suddenly turned green, making Blayke jump violently. He thought he was going to pass out when a man stepped out of the flames, visibly unharmed. Narcissa had gotten up from her seat and went to greet the man. _

_The man was wearing a black cloak. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed for a very long time and a cold and intimidating expression was plastered on his face. _

_After talking to Narcissa for a brief moment, the man suddenly turned and walked towards him. He then bent over and studied his face closely, making him feel very uneasy._

_"So this is the kid you found on the street Narcissa, am I right?" he asked in a neutral voice. _

_Narcissa nodded._

_"I see… Narcissa, you asked me to come in order to help him recover his memories. But you didn't tell me that he was so young. You know very well that if I use my method on a boy that age, it could cause some serious brain damage."_

_"I know Severus, but this is the only way. Ever since Lucius has found out that he was a Parslemouth, he's been wanting to know everything about Blayke. But because the poor thing has developed amnesia, so he can't answer any questions concerning his past. And I have to say that I'm extremely curious as well." _

_"Very well. Would you mind giving us some privacy? Don't be alarmed if you hear some screaming," announced the man. Blayke's eyes widened in horror._

_What on earth is he going to do to me? He thought, alarmed._

_As soon as Narcissa left the room the man grabbed Blayke's wrist in a tight grip and forced him to look into his eyes . _

_Once he finally met his eyes, the greasy-haired man didn't move for such a long time Blayke began to wonder what was wrong with the man. His stare was making Blayke very uneasy. _

_He tried to break the connection, but found that he was unable to tear his gaze away from the strange individual. _

_So Blayke did what any child would do. He panicked. He had no idea what was happening but he had a bad feeling about it. Before he knew what he was doing, he stomped on the man's foot, hard. _

_The man gasped in pain, and let go of his wrist. Blayke immediately knew that the connection had been broken. He took this opportunity to jump up from his seat and to make a break for it. Unfortunately he wasn't quick enough._

_The next thing Blayke knew, a hand seized his arm again and he was thrown back into the armchair. He froze when a wand was pointed at his throat._

_The man shot him such a filthy look that Blayke couldn't stop himself from sinking back in his seat._

_"I know you're lying to them," the man said in a threatening voice._

_Blayke blanched. He needed to get away from this man and fast. He couldn't risk anybody finding out who he really was, especially the Malfoys. _

_He had heard Lucius mention a couple of times the name 'Harry Potter', but every time the name was mentioned, it was immediately followed by insults and death threats. So he couldn't let anyone know who he really was, without fearing about the consequences. _

_He was beginning to grow hysterical when he felt something strange erupt within him, much like what had happened with the Dursleys a couple of weeks ago. The sheer power of this weird phenomenon forced him to close his eyes. He was in pain, but it was nothing compared to last time. _

_He screamed when he felt it leave him._

_When he could finally open his eyes again, he was met with a horrifying sight. The man was on the floor unconscious. There was a small pool of blood on the floor. _

_He was terrified. He was going to be murdered for hurting another man, even though it wasn't done deliberately. Giving up any remaining attempts to stay calm, he darted from the room as fast as he could. _

**End of Flashback. **

Snape was the reason he started learning Occlumency.


	6. Chapter 6

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 6 ¤:<strong>

**An Unusual Plan  
><strong>

Blayke strolled into the Gryffindor common room and threw himself into the armchair by the fire.

It was finally the end of the week, which meant that thankfully detention was over. Even though Professor Snape only assigned him to clean cauldrons without magic, he was glad. The black haired boy was half expecting him to drill him with questions, now that they were alone, without Narcissa or Lucius around.

Blayke honestly didn't know why the Potions professor didn't try to get inside his head again or at the very least ask him questions. He also had no idea why Snape never told the Malfoys that he was lying to them. The man had had lots of opportunities to tell them, but he never did. Blayke had thought of a possible memory loss due to his abnormal burst of accidental magic, but by the way that the man kept glaring at him, he knew it wasn't that.

He finally came to the conclusion that he a hidden agenda.

Blayke always felt uneasy when he was around Snape, because he knew that one day, the teacher would want answers from him.

Blayke was brought out of his musings when heard someone's footsteps approaching him. He didn't even have to turn around to know who the footsteps belonged to. He sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this.

_Geez, can't I be left alone for five minutes?! _he thought.

"What do you want Weasley?" he asked in a bored tone, not bothering to look at him.

"You know bloody well what I want!" retorted the red haired boy.

"Oh I get it," he announced in false realization. "Coming to throw a tantrum are we?"

Weasley's ears turned red in embarrassment.

"Don't make fun of me, you slimy snake!"

"Already starting with the insults? You disappoint me Weasley, I thought you were better than that. By the way, snakes aren't slimy at all. I thought everyone knew that. Apparently I was mistaken," he said, a sly smile tugging on his lips.

"Stop it!" he yelled, catching the attention of the Gryffindors present in the Common Room."You're gonna regret getting me detention!"

"Oh did the wee little boy get detention because of me ? Poor ickle Ronny!"

That statement made a couple of Gryffindors snicker before they help themselves. Weasley's face rapidly turned the same color as his hair.

The next thing Blayke knew, he was being pulled out of the armchair and he was looking straight into the red-head's eyes.

"Listen Malfoy! Stay away from me and the rest of the Gryffindors! You're pure evil!"

"Do you really think I want to endure your company?!" he asked incredulously. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been staying the hell away from you people. But it's been you who's been coming to pick a fight with me every single time," he remarked dryly.

Blayke could tell that the Weasley boy was not pleased by that statement, as his face managed to turn a deeper shade of red than it already was. The Gryffindor snatched his wand from his pocket and pointed it at his throat. A couple of people gasped. However Blayke wasn't fazed. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ronald put your wand away immediately!" ordered the Granger girl.

"What are you going to do weasel? Shoot sparks at me?" taunted Blayke, paying no mind to the muggle-born.

"I can still do more damage than you, you haven't even drawn your wand."

"You sure about that?" he challenged.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

They both turned around to see Percy Weasley approaching them. The red-haired boy hastily put his wand back in his pocket.

"Well, I'm waiting," he said, not impressed.

"Umm," Ron began uncertainly. "M-Malfoy threatened Hermione and called her a "mudblood", so I intervened," he then invented, stumbling slightly on his words.

Blayke raised his other eyebrow. He honestly was surprised that his classmate had managed to come up with a plausible lie in less than five seconds. But he didn't see the need to tell the truth, so he kept his mouth shut. The mean the worse he could get was a detention.

Meanwhile, Percy turned to the muggle-born.

"Is this true, Miss Granger?" he demanded.

She had a worried look on her face. Blayke could tell that she was having an internal battle with herself. He could tell she was itching to tell the truth, but at the same time he knew she didn't want to betray a house mate. Blayke was actually interested to see what she would choose.

"It isn't," she finally uttered. "Ronald went to pick a fight with Blayke. Blayke then started mocking him, so Ronald got mad and took out his wand, ready to attack him."

The Gryffindor was livid. Blayke barely restrained himself from smirking. The Prefect glared at his brother.

"First you go and pick a fight, then you take out your wand, and after you lie about it to your prefect." he scolded "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"What?!" Ron exclaimed, outraged. "You can't do that, I'm your brother!"

"But I'm also your prefect. And if you continue like that, then I'll write to Mum telling her how you've been acting."

The younger Weasley scowled before stomping up to his dorm. Sensing that the scene was over, the rest of the Gryffindors went back to their previous occupations.

Blayke cast an amused look at Granger before going to his dorm as well to get his transfiguration homework.

* * *

><p>Wednesday came around quickly. Blayke was really looking forward to today. Today was the first flying lesson. He knew that this class wouldn't be a disappointment, unlike some. Defense Against The Dart Arts was a good example. It was taught by a stuttering fool who stuffed not only who whole classroom with garlic, but also the turban he was wearing. The stench was enough to give him a headache. Only a half an hour into the lesson, he was already starting to have suicidal tendencies.<p>

The boy got dressed and went to the Great Hall to have breakfast. As usual, he seated himself right at the end of the Gryffindor table.

He was reading the "Daily Prophet" when he saw Neville Longbottom open a package. He snorted when he saw that the package contained a Remembrall.

Thirty seconds later, he saw Draco passing by the Gryffindor table. The blond haired boy snatched the Remembrall from the boy, a jealous look on his face, before reluctantly throwing it back on the table, when he saw McGonagall arriving. This caused Blayke to smirk.

He now knew Draco for six years. But as much as he loved him, he still thought that he was a spoiled brat. But he knew that it wasn't his fault. Lucius and Narcissa had spoiled him rotten over the years. They had tried to do the same thing to him, and while it was nice being able to have things, he had asked them nicely to stop. He knew that he had changed a lot throughout the years, but he refused to become a slimmer copy of Dudley.

Draco caught Blayke gaze and motioned him to leave the Great Hall with him. The black haired boy grabbed his bag and followed him. Draco led him into an empty classroom. Blayke use a spell to lock the door.

Draco turned around to face Blayke.

"Listen Blayke, I've had a chat with the Slytherins," he said. "They are not happy with you,"

"What a surprise !" he retorted sarcastically.

"Don't interrupt me Blayke!" the blond hair boy snapped. "This is serious. They don't want anything to do with you anymore, which puts me in an awkward position. You're my brother, but if I continue to talk to you, then it'll do nothing but ruin my reputation."

Blayke ignored the small pang of hurt he felt at his words.

"So what do you suggest we do then?" he questioned.

"I think that we should pretend to hate each other. We shouldn't talk to each other in public, unless it's to start a fight," he replied.

"I see.. Listen Draco, I understand completely your dilemma. But I've got a problem with your plan. It seems to only benefits you."

Draco looked surprised but soon recovered. A sly smile appeared on the young Slytherin's face.

"You know I still don't know why you got put in Gryffindor. It's so obvious that you should be in Slytherin," the blond observed. "But this plan benefits the both of us! You see, when people start to notice that we hate each other, the Slytherins will stay by my side. The Gryffindors on the other hand, will see that you're different from the rest of us and will most likely warm up to you."

Silence followed that statement. Blayke shot a cold look at Draco.

"What?"

"Why would I want the Gryffindors to warm up to me, Draco?" Blayke asked innocently. "You know... I couldn't help but notice that the whole plan has Lucius written on it. Now tell me the real reason it benefits me," he ordered, making Draco blush.

"Fine!" he relented. "Father is still pissed with you. But he's willing to forgive you if you pretend to be on the light side and manage to gain their trust so that you can manipulate them to do whatever Father wants," the Slytherin explained.

"And what happens if I don't want to?" he asked dryly.

"You'll most likely be disowned you and kick out on the street. So I'm guessing that's what will happen."

He didn't want to suck up to them. Just thinking about it nearly made his stomach churn in disgust. Blayke sighed. In the end he didn't really have a choice. It was either that or get thrown out. It was pretty much a "do or die" situation.

"... Fine!" spat the black haired boy. "But it's not going to be easy."

"Who ever said it was going to be easy?" Draco pointed out, making Blayke scowl at him. The Slytherin glanced at his watch. "Come on, we've got to be on the Quidditch pitch in a quarter of an hour."

They made their way to the Quidditch pitch in silence, each absorbed by their thoughts. To make it look like that they didn't go together, Draco decided to go first. Blayke followed a couple of minutes later.

They were one of the firsts to arrive. Also waiting were Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

The two boys couldn't help but notice that the broomsticks lying on the floor were not in the best of conditions. They were old and filthy. You could even see traces of dust on them. He was horrified that the staff let them get this bad. He was disgusted that he had to ride one of those things.

Blayke, wanting to distract himself, studied the facial expressions of each student. He was delighted to see Granger looking extremely nervous. After all, flying wasn't something you could learn in books.

He saw that Neville was turning a delicate shade of green. He actually felt a pang of pity for him.

Ten minutes later, the flying coach, Madam Hooch arrived on the pitch. She ordered the students to stand each by a broomstick, then to stick their hand over their respective brooms and say "UP!"

Blayke's broom shot up straight away, as did Draco, Dean Thomas's and Daphne Greengrass's, whereas some like Longbottom's just didn't move. Blayke who was standing next to him, was happily enjoying the show. But he then caught Draco's meaningful look. So he reluctantly took pity on him.

In less than twenty seconds, the boy was tightly gripping the broomstick, a timid smile on his face, looking slightly better than he did before.

Blayke was amused when he saw Granger give up and pick up the broom herself. She shot him a look daring him to say something. But he was distracted when Weasley's broom handle thwacked him on the nose. He and a couple of other people howled with laughter.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms before instructed them to kick off from the ground hard when she blew the whistle; to hover for a moment, before leaning forward slightly to come back down.

Blayke kept glancing at Neville, who he saw was starting to panic. Sensing a coming catastrophe, the boy grabbed hold of his classmate's broomstick to stop him from going anywhere.

But his classmate didn't even seem to notice his hold on the broomstick and tried to kick off before Madam Hooch had blown the whistle. With the unexpected resistance, the broom reared violently to the left, before shooting forwards. Blayke, who wasn't expecting such a violent jolt, got yanked off his own broom and dragged on the Quidditch pitch for about ten meters before finally letting go. This was the wrong thing to do, as it jolted again, making Neville fly off the broom and doing an extraordinary face plant.

The flying instructor rushed over to the two boys, checking for any injuries.

"I'm fine!" Blayke grunted, getting back onto his feet and walking over to see Neville, who hadn't even moved

Madam Hooch delicately turned the boy on his back. He was unconscious.

"Is he going to be okay?" the boy asked, pretending to care.

"Don't worry Mr. Malfoy, he'll be fine. He's just knocked out," she assured him. "I'm still going to need to take him to the hospital wing. Perhaps you should go as well."

"I'm fine Madam Hooch, I'm not hurt." He said as nicely as he could.

She had one last look at him, then gave a firm nod. She conjured a stretcher and levitated the unconscious child onto it. She then ordered the students to keep their feet firmly on the ground until she came back, or else they were expelled.

As soon as they were gone, Draco snatched something from the grass. It was Neville Longbottom's Remembrall.

"Did you see _his_ face? Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, _he_'d have _remembered to fall on his fat ass,_" he mocked, thus attracting a lot of glares from the Gryffindor house.

The rest of the Slytherins snickered. Blayke had to bite his tongue to stop himself from joining them.

"Give me the Remembrall, Malfoy!" ordered Hermione Granger.

"And why would I do that?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Because it's not yours!" cried Lavander Brown.

"So?"

"Give it back you prick!" shouted Ronald Weasley.

"Don't talk to Draco like tha-"

"I can talk to him how the bloody hell I want to, Parkinson!" snarled the red-head. "Give it back!" he demanded Draco.

"And what if I don't want to?" the Slytherin provoked. "Anyway, Longbottom is so stupid that he'll most likely _forget_ he had one in the first place."

"Just give it here Draco," Blayke uttered coldly sensing that it was his cue.

Draco spun towards him, scowling. But the child could see that he had caught on to the plan.

"Trying to act like a hero again Blayke? You already tried to five minutes ago, and it ended up with Longbottom being sent to the hospital wing!" he mocked.

"I'm not trying to act like a hero!" he said calmly.

"Really?" his brother said, skeptical. He then eyed the object in his hand. "Tell you what, if you want it, you're just going to have to get it."

The boy mounted his broomstick and took off. Blayke took his own broom and kicked off. He soon arrived at Draco's level. He shot him an icy look, which was equally returned.

"Come on Draco, I'm not in the mood to play games, give it here before I decide to hurt you!" he threatened.

"You wouldn't," he countered, visibly amused.

Blayke didn't bother answering and instead, leaned forward and shot towards Malfoy, purposefully missing him by a couple of inches.

"Still so sure now?" the boy taunted.

Draco scowled before hastily throwing the Remembrall as far as he could. The black haired boy dived, practically lying on his broom as to get as much speed as possible. He caught the object just centimeters before it touched the ground, and pulled up sharply.

He looked around and saw that Malfoy had already returned to the ground. He landed in front of him and unmounted his broom.

Seconds later, a woman's voice was heard:

"MALFOY!"

All the students turned around to see Madam Hooch marching up to them, her face red with rage. The child could have sworn that there was air coming out of her ears.

_Crap.. _thought Blayke. _I'm dead.._

"HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY MAD ?!"she screamed. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU!" "I TOLD YOU TO DO ONE THING! I TOLD TO STAY ON THE GROUND! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HURT! YOU COULD HAVE BROKEN SOMETHING OR YOU COULD HAVE EVEN BEEN PARALYZED! YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

"But I'm fine, aren't I?" he replied before he could help himself.

Blayke knew instantly that it was the wrong thing to say.

"We're going to see the headmaster," she announced "I will not condone such behavior!"

Blayke blanched. He did NOT want to visit the headmaster. He still was pissed of by the fact that he tried to enter his mind. He was nothing but a manipulative bastard.

The child sent the instructor a pleading look that went ignored. Instead, Madam Hooch grabbed his wrist and dragged him along with her.

After what seemed to be an eternity, they were standing in front of the stone gargoyle leading to the headmaster's office.

"Fizzing Whizbees," the teacher said angrily.

Madam Hooch was then knocking frantically on the office door, before opening it. The headmaster was seated at his desk, sucking on a lemon drop.

"Madam Hooch, Mr. Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure for?" the headmaster greeted, jovially.

The old man pointed at the seats in front of his desk and told them to settle down. Blayke did so reluctantly.

"Lemon drop?" he offered. They both declined. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" he asked calmly.

"Mr. Longbottom had a little accident during my lesson. I took him to the hospital wing but I specifically told my students to stay on the ground. But when I came back ten minutes later, I see Mr Malfoy here doing some extremely dangerous stunts on his broomstick. He deliberately _disobeyed _me! He could have broken his neck!" the woman screeched.

"Please sir, I knew what I was doing, I've been flying for years!" Blayke tried in a pleading voice. He knew that he wasn't going to get expelled, but he had to pretend.

"Even so, you disobeyed me, which is unacceptable behavior. What if you didn't know how to fly?" the flying coach snapped, interrupting the headmaster who was about to speak.

"But I only went flying because someone has stolen Neville's Remembrall," he protested.

The headmaster gazed at the boy in front of him. Blayke avoided eye contact, suspecting that the headmaster would try to enter his mind.

He hid a sly smile when he saw the well concealed disappointed look on the old man's face. The wizard would just have to believe him.

"Please don't expel me, professor Dumbledore," he whispered. "I won't do it again I promise."

The man cast him one last calculating glance before relenting.

"No need to worry, you were trying to help a classmate, so, I'm not going to expel you. However you'll be serving detention with Madam Hooch for what you did. Is that suitable for you Rolanda?"

The flying instructor nodded. Blayke forced a smile. On the inside, he was refraining himself from spitting on the man.

"Headmaster," said Madam Hooch, who was now fully calm. "I couldn't help but notice that even though Mr. Malfoy could have killed himself, that he's an excellent flyer. You should talk to Professor McGonagall. I'd say he's good enough to join the Gryffindor team. He caught the Remembrall just inches from the ground. I'd even say that he's as good as James Potter."

Blayke flinched at the name, but tried to conceal it as best as he could. The headmaster eyes twinkled.

"Really? Well then I shall inform professor McGonagall right away, I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"NO!" the boy blurted out, before he could stop himself.

He was now on the receiving end of two very odd looks. He couldn't help but blush slightly. He was loosing control of his emotions in public, something that hadn't happened in years.

He was starting to freak out. He didn't want anybody comparing him to his biological father, James Potter, just in case someone made the connection. He knew he was being paranoid, but what could he do?

But he needed to calm down, before they got suspicious. With a lot of effort, he managed to reign in his emotions.

"Umm.. I mean.. I love flying, I do, but I'm not that interested in playing Quidditch," he continued, in a steadier voice.

Madam Hooch looked extremely disappointed. Dumbledore just nodded, the odd expression still present on his face.

"Very well. Run along now, you don't want to be late for your next class," the old man said kindly.

Blayke didn't need telling twice. He practically bolted out the door, after bidding him a good day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Consumed by Fear**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><span><strong>¤ Chapter 7 ¤:<strong>

**A New Addition**

Albus Dumbledore watched his office door close, a slight frown on his face. He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and leant back on his chair.

The elderly wizard was proud to say that he mostly wasn't surprised by anything anymore, and yet, Blayke Malfoy had done the impossible. He had been here for a bit more than a week, and he had already managed to surprise him multiple times.

First off, was at the sorting. Needless to say, the headmaster had not been expecting a Malfoy to be sorted into Gryffindor. No Malfoy had ever been sorted into any other house than Slytherin, so this was something unexpected. And apart from anything else, if you were to listen to the stereotypes, the boy had technically wound up in the exact opposite house, which Albus guessed, had caused a lot of trouble for the child. After all, it was no secret that the Malfoys supported the dark side, so getting sorted into the house of light was bound to have some serious repercussions.

Another think that took him aback, was the fact that Mr. Malfoy possessed some Occlumency shields, and some reasonably resistant ones at that. When the hat had cried "Gryffindor!", he had wanted some answers. So he had tried to use Legilimency on the child, even though it was illegal.

But he had not honestly been expecting, once in the boy's mind, to be blocked by some mental barriers. That alone, had destabilized him. His concentration had wavered the tiniest bit and the next thing he knew, he had been pushed forcefully from the child mind. The boy had obviously acted on this one moment of weakness to throw him out.

Albus knew that it was unusual for a boy his age to have to have learnt Occlumency. But what really unnerved him was that those powerful barriers belonged to an eleven year old boy. He knew that in a couple of years, 's shields would be one of the best one's around.

And Mr. Malfoy had managed to surprise him, yet again, just a couple of minutes ago. When Rolanda had announced that the child's flying skills were as good or even surpassed that of James Potter's, the elderly wizard had noticed something slightly off with the boy. He had flinched. It was well concealed, but not enough for him to not notice it. In fact, if he didn't have sharp eyes, then it would have most likely passed unnoticed. This bit of news was quite disturbing.

The only thing that the Malfoys flinched at, was at the use of Tom Riddle's title "Voldemort". The headmaster's had first thought that perhaps the boy had flinched in disgust, but Albus had discarded the idea as soon as he saw the boy's reaction afterwards. He had started to panic. He had recomposed himself quickly though, but not quickly enough. No, it definitely wasn't in disgust. The child had flinched in fear. But in fear of what?

The headmaster pondered the question, occasionally popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

About half an hour later, he was still no closer to an answer. The man sighed, rubbing his temples.

Suddenly he stood up. He just had an amazing idea. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this before. He went towards the shelves that were behind the desk, and grabbed something off one of them. He then sat back on his chair, putting the idem on his desk in the process. It was an old hat, The Sorting Hat to be more precise.

"Hello, old friend, how have you been?" Albus greeted, politely.

"I'm fine, thank you Albus," replied the hat. "Now what is it you wanted to ask me?" it asked, getting straight to the point.

"Well, I was wondering if you noticed anything... special about any of the first years you've sorted this year?" said the headmaster, choosing his words carefully.

"Hmmm.. Why yes!" the hat said after a couple of seconds. "There's Miss Granger for a start. She put up quite a fight to be sorted into Gryffindor. She was so adamant on joining that house. She's brave, no doubt about that, but she would have been better suited in Ravenclaw. She's definitely the smartest witch of her age. There's also Mr Longbottom, who possesses a lot of bravery and potential, despite what others may think. It's a shame that the boy has such a low self-esteem. His true potential will stay hidden until he starts believing in himself. "

"I'm not surprised that the young boy hasn't got any self-confidence. After all, he hasn't had the most wonderful childhood. He's been living with his grand-mother who I've heard is not particularly easy to live with. She's very stern and demanding of him. She is trying to force him to be more like his parents. To inflict that sort of behavior upon a child is bound to have consequences," the man revealed sadly. "Is there anyone else?"

"There's also Draco Malfoy. Even though I was on his head for a split second, I could literally _feel _his cunning and determination _radiating_ off him. He could become dangerous in later years, so I advise you be careful Albus," warned the artifact.

Albus nodded, processing the hat's statement. This wasn't a big surprise to him. The Sorting Hat had given him the same warning when it had sorted Lucius Malfoy. And as the hat predicted, the man had soon become a problem. He would have to ask Severus to keep an eye out on Draco Malfoy and see if there was any hope left for him.

"What about Blayke Malfoy?" Albus probed. The hat raised his eyebrows.

"Blayke Malfoy..." the Sorting Hat murmured, thinking. "He was an intriguing one, that's for sure... But I'd say that he's more unusual than special."

The headmaster waited for the hat to elaborate. But when it was obvious that it wasn't going to, he sighed.

"May I inquire as to what you mean by 'unusual'?"

"I mean that he's different from the other students I've sorted, but I'm not sure if it's in a good way..." the object uttered, concern evident in its voice, making Albus frown in worry.

"I'm going to have to ask you to elaborate," the wizard told him, but in a tone that made his statement sound more like an order.

"Mr. Malfoy has a lot of magical power, well above average. In fact I've only seen a couple of people who have this much power. He will be a formidable adversary later on. But he's got an unhealthy amount of angst within him, an amount that could, combined with his power, prove to be even dangerous, should he loose it one day. He seems to have control over his magic, but one can never be sure. Darkness surrounds his aura, Albus. It's not normal." the battered object declared.

The headmaster was growing more and more concerned. This had not what he had been expecting at all. The child was starting to remind him of one particular student who had attended Hogwarts, fifty years ago.

"What about his sorting?" he asked tiredly.

"Mr. Malfoy would have fit well in any house. He's loyal to his friends to the point where he would die for them. He would never betray those he loves. He is also highly intelligent and clever. For him, knowledge is power. The boy is very cunning, resourceful, and can successfully manipulate a lot of people in order to get what he wants. He's very ambitious and will never stop until he gets what he wants. And he possesses such bravery. I've seen in his memories that he has conquered fear many times without the slightest hesitation," divulged The Sorting Hat.

"If he fitted into every house, then why did you put him into Gryffindor?"

The object stayed silent, giving him an odd look.

"Well?" he prompted.

"You know Albus, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be very interested in the young boy. You didn't make such a fuss when Sirius Black got sorted into Gryffindor," pointed out the artifact, a smirk on its face.

"It's not the same.." he said in a cold voice.

"Oh really?" the artifact said, sceptically. "Two people, each from a dark family who have all been sorted into Slytherin House for centuries, both break the tradition by being sorted into Gryffindor. Sounds like the same to me." the hat countered, it's smirk growing.

"It's not!" the man repeated, scowling. "Sirius Black _wanted_ to go there, whereas Blayke Malfoy, most certainly did NOT! You could tell just by the look on his face!"

Albus had expected the hat to respond. But when it didn't, he gave The Sorting Hat a scrutinizing look. His eyes narrowed when he understood why.

"You're hiding something from me," the elderly wizard realized, coolly.

"Now, why would think that?" the hat inquired, innocently.

"It's not the time to play dumb,_ hat_! I demand that you tell me!" Albus ordered, in a low and dangerous voice. The old object scowled.

"I've told you enough Dumbledore! The rest of the information concerning his sorting will stay strictly confidential."

"Might I remind you that I am headmaster of this school!"

"Just because you're headmaster, does not mean that I have to reveal every detail of every single student's sorting to you! I answer to Hogwarts alone! You have NO power over me!" the Sorting Hat retorted sharply.

The headmaster was rendered silent with that statement, fuming.

"Mr. Malfoy is keeping a secret!" The man finally spilled, sheepishly. It was a weak argument, but he didn't care at this point.

"Everyone is entitled to have their secrets Dumbledore."

"But I must know, especially if he's a potential dark wizard!" Albus insisted. Technically he wanted to satisfy his curiosity, but the hat didn't need to know that.

"Well, you won't, and that's final!" the Sorting Hat roared, finally loosing his patience.

Albus was outraged. How dare the hat defy him! But he knew that the hat was right. He had no power over it. If it wanted to keep the students secrets, then he couldn't force it to reveal them. But seeing as the old object is unable to defend itself, Albus _could_ at least cast some compulsion charms on the hat, in order to influence the sorting of certain students.

The man jumped from his seat, and made to leave the office when the artifact said something that made his blood run cold:

"You know, instead of spending your time trying to uncover other people's secrets, shouldn't you be spending it looking for Harry Potter?"

* * *

><p>Blayke practically bolted out the headmaster's office. He needed to get as far away from the man as he could. The boy resisted breaking off into a run, and forced himself to stay calm. After all, he could draw some unwanted attention, if some students saw him on the verge of killing something.<p>

The emerald eyed boy wandered aimlessly through the corridors, deep in thought. He was furious with himself. He had specifically trained himself to keep his emotions hidden, no matter the situation he was in. The old man was probably already suspicious, and now he had gone and made everything worse.

Just because the flying coach had compared his flying skills to that of his biological father's, he had flinched. And on top of that, he had panicked when she wanted to recommend him for the team, because he was so afraid that someone might put two and two together.

He couldn't allow himself to show emotions like that. It was too risky. Blayke knew what he was in for when he had chosen to go to Hogwarts. But now, he was starting to regret dearly his decision. Blayke was feeling very foolish.

_I'm such an idiot.._ he thought bitterly, anger coursing through his veins. _I could have gone to Beauxbatons and lived my school years in peace...__But NO! I wanted a bloody challenge. Well, I got a challenge all right! It's been only a bit more than a week, and my secret is no longer safe. _

"Well done Blayke!"he muttered to himself, sarcastically.

He barely registered the fact that his footsteps had taken him into a dark corridor in the Dungeons. All he knew was that the anger boiling up inside of him had reached a breaking point. He could no longer hold it in. He needed to vent it out on something, and this instant.

So, the wall quickly became the target of Blayke's anger. He punched the wall repeatedly with his left fist while cursing. The black haired boy vented out all the bottled anger he kept inside of him.

It came to the point where he wasn't sure if he was expelling his self-aimed resentment, all of this week's events, or all the pressure and stress he was put under while staying with the Malfoys. It didn't seem to matter though. It was only when the pain became too much that he stopped.

He slid down against the wall and sat on the dungeon floor, holding his now shaking hand. Blood trickled onto the floor. He felt exceedingly tired. He was so tired of everything, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Blayke knew that he wouldn't even last a month if he continued like this. He had to get his act together and fast.

He didn't have a choice anymore. He had to deal with the consequences of his actions. He would have to try harder, otherwise someone would eventually find out that he was in fact Harry Potter. His life would be turned completely upside down, and he would have nobody to blame but himself.

A loud "CLANG!" suddenly distracted him from his thoughts. The black haired boy looked around him and saw a little glass ball on the floor, next to him. The object had fallen out of his pocket. Blayke immediately recognized it as Neville Longbottom's Remembrall. With everything that had happened, he had forgotten that he still had it with him.

The child sighed. He might as well go and give it back to him. His classmate was most likely still at the Hospital Wing.

Blayke stood up, using his hand to support himself on the wall, and slowly made his way out of the Dungeons.

The black haired boy reached the Hospital Wing ten minutes later. He opened the door and stepped in.

Neville was lying on one of the beds at the end. He made his way towards him, the Remembrall clutched in his hand. The young Gryffindor hadn't noticed him.

"Longbottom!" he called.

The boy jumped and paled slightly when he saw who it was.

"M-Malfoy!" he squeaked. "What a-are you doing here?" the boy asked suspiciously.

Blayke tossed the Remembrall to Neville, who surprisingly enough, caught it.

"You dropped it when you fell off your broom," he said simply.

"Er.. T-Thanks." stuttered the timid boy. His eyes had gotten wider, obviously not expecting that.

Blayke nodded. He turned on his heel and started to walk out of the room, but stopped in his tracks when he heard his classmate gasp.

"Umm.. Malfoy what d-did you do t-to your hand?"

_Shit_, he thought.

"Nothing, my hand's fine," answered Blayke calmly, discreetly hiding his hand.

"B-But then why is there b-blood on the floor?" Neville asked quietly.

The black haired boy turned around and looked down at the floor. Sure enough, drops of blood decorated messily the Hospital Wing floor. He gazed at Neville who was apparently finding his feet to be a particulary interesting view.

"It's nothing Longbottom, I grazed my hand on the ground when I caught your Remembrall. No biggie. It'll stop bleeding soon," the boy lied smoothly. He cast a quick _Tempus. _"Anyway, gotta go, I'm late for History of Magic. See you!"

"STOP RIGHT HERE !" shrieked Madam Pomphrey's voice, the moment he had grabbed hold of the door handle.

Blayke didn't have time to contemplate whether or not he should make a break for it, as the medi-witch had grabbed him by the arm and was directing him to the bed next to Neville's in a blink of an eye. She forced him to sit down on it.

She then gently took his arm and rolled back the sleeve, in order to have a better look. A stern expression spread across her face. The black haired boy stared at his battered hand, waiting for the inevitable questions.

"How did this happen?" the nurse questioned while examining the hand.

"I grazed my hand on the Quidditch pitch ground when I caught Longbottom's Remembrall." repeated the emerald eyed boy.

By the way Madam Pomphrey looked at him, he knew that she didn't believe a word of what he said.

"You did a lot more than graze your hand. You nearly broke it and you're loosing a fair amount of blood." The woman said, fixing Blayke with a piercing gaze.

"Oh..." he said simply, not knowing what else to say.

"Stay put," the medi-witch ordered him before retreating to her office.

An awkward silence settled between the two young wizards. Blayke could easily tell by the expression on the Gryffindor's face that he wanted to say something. He waited patiently, vaguely noticing his attempts to boost his confidence.

"W-Why did you help me earlier on ?" the boy finally blurted out, his cheeks turning an unattractive tinge of red.

"Because you needed help."

"But don't y-you hate us?!" exclaimed Neville before he could stop himself.

"I'm assuming by your use of the word 'us', that you're referring to the Gryffindors?" He nodded. "Well.. to put it simply, yes."

"B-but then why d-"

"Look Longbottom, I helped you because I wanted to prevent a catastrophe. Seeing as you were petrified by the mere sight of a broom, I knew that things wouldn't bode well unless someone tried to help you," he replied untruthfully, interrupting his classmate in the process."But as you can see, my attempts turned out to be futile, seeing as you're in the Hospital Wing."

In fact, he had helped him rather reluctantly. He had only done it because of Lucius's plan, otherwise he wouldn't have done anything about it.

"B-but..."

"I don't bite you know, you can tell me," teased Blayke.

Neville was now blushing,crimson.

"I k-know!" the Gryffindor told him, flustered. It's just.. I d-don't understand, if it were R-Ron, then I'm sure you w-would have done n-nothing..." he uttered a couple of seconds later.

The black haired boy snorted at the mental image of Weasley clinging on the broom for dear life, emitting a very girlish scream.

"Quite right," admitted Blayke, a smile tugging at his lips. "Look, there's something you've got to understand though," he announced, seeing no need to lie. "You see, like you said, I do hate Gryffindors. They're arrogant, noisy, annoying, and they're all under the impression that the sunshine shines out of their asses!" He paused. "But there are some exceptions. You're one of them. You're different from the others. So if I had to help someone, I'd rather help someone like you, than someone like Weasley."

The medi-witch reentered the room at that moment, clutching two potion's vials. She bustled over to Blayke and lifted gently his hand. This gave Neville the opportunity to process everything that had been revealed to him.

Madam Pomfrey took the vial filled with some purplish liquid.

"This is going to sting a little, so do try to keep your hand still," warned the healer.

She proceeded to dab the liquid onto the wound. It began to sting instantly. But Blayke didn't move an inch. The healer then poked his hand with her wand and it began to heal.

When it had finished healing, she handed him the other vial. It contained a reddish colored liquid.

"What is this?" he asked, examining it closely.

"A Blood-Replenishing Potion. You're looking fairly pale Mr. Malfoy."

He downed the contents of the vial in one go, trying to ignore the unpleasant taste.

"You're not to leave until lunch," she ordered, before disappearing into her office again.

"What about History of Magic?" Blayke called out to the nurse.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find some other place to catch up on some z's!" Neville teased.

Blayke snorted and looked at him. The Gryffindor gave him a timid smile. The emerald eyed boy was happy to see him come out of his shell a little. He also noticed that he didn't stutter when he said that. He came to the conclusion that it was purely nerves that caused his stuttering.

He quickly made his mind up. He would stay close to Neville Longbottom, purely for the benefit of the plan.

* * *

><p>"Hey Blayke, can you help me, I'm completely lost!" asked Neville, who was trying to transfigure his object into a bird.<p>

The last couple of weeks had passed fairly quickly. Blayke kept as quiet as possible, spending his time either studying or hanging out with Neville. But he was careful to not overdo it, as to not make the rest of the Gryffindors suspicious, or to jeopardize the boy's reputation.

Most of the Gryffindors had grudgingly accepted that he was in their house and that it wasn't going to change anytime soon. So they had taken to ignoring him. Blayke wasn't about to complain, at least he was left alone. The only person who continued to pick fights with him was Weasley.

"Earth hello! Is anyone there?" the Gryffindor called, waving a hand in front of Blayke's face.

"Uh.. What?" he inquired, snapping out of his reverie.

A mischievous smile appeared on Neville's face.

"So... who were you been thinking about this time?"

"What?" the black haired boy said, frowning in confusion.

"C'mon, you can tell me! Was it Lavender ? Or maybe Parvati?" he prodded, his smile getting wider by the second. Blayke stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"None of them," he replied, coolly.

"You sure? Because you've probably got a shot with them. Hermione told me that they've put up pictures of you in their dorms. She even told me that Parvati sleeps with one of your pictures at night." Neville declared.

The emerald eyed boy choked on his own spit.

"Please tell me that was a joke!" he pleaded, horrified.

His classmate stayed silent, but the smile did not fade. Blayke buried his face in his hands.

The timid boy burst out laughing, earning a reproachful look from McGonagall.

"Concentrate on your transfiguration work Mr. Longbottom, before I decide to dock house points." she threatened.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, trying to control his laughter. "You know, this can't come as a surprise Blayke," he stated, as soon as the transfiguration teacher had turned her attention elsewhere. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten what happened."

Blayke blushed in embarrassment.

"How could I ever forget?"

**Flashback:**

_Blayke was sitting down at the Gryffindor table, eating his dinner. He was talking to Neville, when two girls entered the Great Hall and made a bee line towards him. They sat, one on each side of him. Blayke quickly identified them as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown._

"_Hi Blayke!" they greeted jovially._

"_Uh.. Hello," he replied, confused. "How can I help you?" he asked, as politely as he could._

_It was the first time that Gryffindors had even made an attempt to talk to him. Granted, those two girls weren't part of the group of Gryffindors who verbally attacked him daily, but they completely ignored him. _

_"We just wanted thank you for helping Neville the other day," Parvati gushed._

"_And for standing up to your brother for one of us!" Lavender added._

"_It was so brave!" finished Parvati, dreamily. _

_Blayke eyes bugged out when they said that. He wasn't used to having girls fawn over him like this._

"_Err.. It was nothing," the emerald eyed boy finally said._

_Neville snorted into his pumpkin juice. Blayke shot him an icy glare. The two girls were completely oblivious to what was happening around them. They only seemed to have eyes for Blayke._

_Lavender suddenly took out a box and set it on the table, in front of him. The black haired boy raised an eyebrow in response._

"_It's for you, We want you to have it," she announced nervously. "Open it!"_

"_Yeah Blayke, open it!" pipped up Neville, grinning._

_The boy reluctantly took the small box in his hands, trying to keep himself under control. He hoped that there wasn't anything too embarrassing. _

_He slowly lifted the lid off and looked inside. His fears were confirmed. In the box, was a hideous pink necklace. He looked back up and saw that a lot of students, not just the Gryffindors were now looking at him. _

"_Do you like it?" asked the Indian girl, worriedly._

"_It's, umm... Unique," he answered, choosing carefully his words. He really hoped that she wasn't going to ask him to wear it. _

"_Aren't you going to show us what it is?" Neville asked, smirking._

_Blayke wanted to do nothing more but strangle him. He was going to get his revenge._

"_Not right now." _

"_Why not?" Parvati whined, visibly hurt._

"_You don't like it do you?" Lavender muttered, her eyes filling with tears._

"_No, no! It's not that!" blurted out Blayke._

"_Yes it is! Why else wouldn't you want to show your friends what we gave you!" sobbed the girl._

"_Trust me it's not that!" he insisted. "It's just, I don't want to get food all over it. It would be a shame to spoil something so... nice," he invented quickly._

_"Oh but you wouldn't spoil it, you can just rinse it with water!" Lavender countered, believing the lie, seeing as her tears were drying up quickly. _

_Blayke sighed. There was no way he could get out of this, unless it involved hurting the girl's feelings. And if he did that, he would just make things worse with the Gryffindors._

_He slowly took the necklace out of the box, for the whole world to see. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were trying desperately to hold their laughter in. The Slytherins didn't deem it necessary so burst out laughing. Blayke blushed scarlet._

"_It will look stunning on you Blayke, I'm sure! Why don't you try it on?" proposed the timid boy, making him blush even more._

_Lavender jumped up from her seat, snatched the horrible necklace from Blayke's hand and swung it around his neck, before he had a chance to protest. _

"_Oh! It looks even better than I imagined!" squealed the Indian girl._

"_You look amazing!" added the other girl._

_The black haired boy was restraining himself from cursing the girls into oblivion. This was so humiliating. Even from here, he could hear Draco howling with laughter. _

"_I've gotta go, I have to finish my Potion's essay." he mumbled, getting up._

"_Oh great me too! We can do it together!" Parvati said, getting up as well._

_Blayke wanted to scream from sheer frustration. _

**End of Flashback.**

Blayke glared at Neville.

"I'm going to get my revenge you know!" he announced coldly.

"I never thought Malfoys liked pranks."

"You'd be surprised," he said, smirking.

"10 points from Gryffindor Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Longbottom for speaking!" snapped Professor McGonagall.

She stopped at their table and gave them a stern look. Blayke couldn't help but notice that her eyes were red and puffy. He wondered what happened to her to make her this upset.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the professor ordered them to turn their objects into birds. The black haired boy did it perfectly. But that wasn't Neville's case. His object turn into some sort of mutant bird.

Blayke couldn't help looking at the thing with disgust. McGonagall frowned disapprovingly, and turned it back.

"Detention for inactivity, Mr. Longbottom. 8 o'clock, my office," she announced shortly before turning her back to them.

"She looks a little off today, haven't you noticed?" Neville whispered.

"Yeah, I saw. It's kind of weird to see her like this," he whispered back.

"Tell me about it!"

"Why do you think she was crying?" inquired Blayke.

"No idea," he responded. "Oh wait, I think I know!"

He looked at him expectantly. Neville sighed.

"Do you know what the date is today?" he asked, making the child frown in confusion.

He thought about it for a couple of seconds, then suddenly blanched. He felt as though someone had just thrown a bucket of icy water over him. How could he have forgotten?

Today was the anniversary of his biological parent's deaths. It was Halloween.


End file.
